Dreams
by ImaginIsa
Summary: Some events are so traumatic that they can only be examined in dreams. Kirk/Spock bromance and spoilers for Star Trek: Into Darkness.


Dreams

_Author's Note: I do not own _Star Trek._ However, I think that the Kirk/Spock bromance is absolutely fantastic and I can't help but write a fic about it! Spoilers for Star Trek: Into Darkness (and please don't read this if you haven't seen it, it's much better if you understand the movie.) Takes place after "The Weakest Link." Please read and review. Thanks!  
_  
Spock had never had a problem with dreams. Dreams were simply the subconscious sorting through the thoughts and emotions of the day, a tool the body used to remember important events and disregard trivial matters. He had learned to control his dreams the same way he controlled his emotions. Then he'd become part of the Enterprise.  
It wasn't being on the ship itself that gave him dreams; it was what had happened to him since he joined it. The destruction of Vulcan. His ever growing love for Nyota Uhura. And Jim Kirk's death...  
Part of Spock scolded himself for being more upset about dreams that featured Jim's death than he was about dreams of his planet being destroyed. It always made him feel illogically guilty to feel more at the death of one man than the death of millions. And then, every time, he would remember his mother and inside of his head would become a shouting match of guilt. His conscious wrestling with shock and anger over momentarily forgetting about his mother. Then, for a few seconds he would be angry at Jim Kirk for dying and leaving a bigger impression than the death of his mother, then even more furious at himself for assigning blame illogically. 

By this point, Spock knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. So he would get up, get dressed, and simply roam the halls of the Enterprise. At this time of night, only the night crew was awake - the bare minimum to keep the ship running and ready. If the red alert sirens went off, everyone would be awake instantly but usually the ship was quite empty at night. This had happened exactly five times. Each time, the dreams got worse. 

Tonight, the dreams had begun with him logically sorting through Chekov's rescue mission. The dream had soon turned into a nightmare featuring the destruction of Vulcan, his mother's death, and Kirk dying as well. It had been mixed together and strange...he didn't really want to dwell on it. So he walked through the halls of the Enterprise, cataloging every light, every computer console. It was...comforting...  
Vulcan's shouldn't need comfort.  
It was...familiar...yes, familiar because this ship had somehow become his home.

He heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see Ensign Mayweather walking toward him, engrossed in the tablet in her hand. Spock stepped aside, and she nodded at him, distracted. Then she did a double take.  
"Commander Spock? Is everything all right?"  
"There is no cause for alarm," he assured her, "I simply chose to walk in the halls while most of those onboard are asleep."  
"Oh...okay," she said. She began to walk away, but paused and turned to ask him, "Uh...permission to speak freely, sir?"  
Spock wondered what she could possibly say that required permission.  
"Permission granted, Ensign."  
"Are you all right, sir?" she asked.  
Spock looked at her steadily, but inside he was quite surprised. He hadn't realized that April Mayweather was quite that perceptive.  
"There is no need for you to worry," he replied.  
"Are you sure...?" Her voice trailed off as Spock simply looked at her. She nodded, "Have a good evening, Commander." She began to walk away again.  
"Ensign," Spock called.  
Ensign Mayweather turned and looked; "Yes?"  
"Thank you for your concern."  
She smiled, "You're welcome, Commander."  
She turned the corner and Spock heard her enter the turbolift. Then he hoped fervently that he could get himself under control by morning so that no one else would realize how his emotions were nearer to the surface than anyone realized.

Spock continued walking, this time with a destination in mind. He had heard that the view from the dining hall was soothing and there was something fascinating about watching the stars flash by at warp.  
He entered the dining hall, registered that only one dim light was lit, and stopped in surprise. Spock raised an eyebrow; there, his back silhouetted against the flashing stars, was Jim Kirk.  
"Captain?" Spock called softly, walking forward, "Is everything all right?"  
Jim turned and gave Spock a wry smile. "Asking after other people's emotions, are we?"  
"Sometimes it is necessary," Spock replied. He was standing before him now.  
Jim shrugged, "Sometimes." He turned to face the window.  
Spock stood next to him, silent. Some instinct told him that Jim would talk when he was ready, if he needed to talk. Spock wondered if he should pass the time by calculating exactly how fast they were going or trying to catalog the stars but decided, illogically, to just stand there and listen to his breath. 

A few minutes passed then Jim said quietly, "I've been having these dreams."  
"Really?" said Spock before he could stop himself.  
Jim gave him a look of exasperation. "Humans dream, Spock."  
"Logically, yes. I only meant that I too have experienced...vivid dreams for the past week." There he'd admitted that his emotions were out of control. Now he waited for his friends reply.

The reply was for Jim to chuckle. He clapped Spock on the back the way he often did to McCoy. "Guess there is something wrong with both of us."  
"There is nothing inherently wrong, Captain," Spock replied. "Humans dream in order to make sense of their emotions." Spock repeated what he had just said in his mind and mentally winced. There might be nothing wrong with Jim, but there was something wrong with him. Vulcans did not dream emotionally.  
To his surprise - he'd been surprised a lot tonight - Jim was thinking the same thing.  
"You know, Spock," he said, "It's okay for you to dream. You're part human after all."  
"I am comfortable with dreaming," Spock said. "I am not accustomed to dreaming with so much..."  
"Emotion?" Jim guessed.  
"Fear," Spock said quietly.  
"Me neither," Jim said, just as softly. Spock looked at him quizzically. "You want to know what I've been dreaming, Spock? I've been dreaming about dying. Over and over and over again. I'm behind that glass and..." Jim stopped. He was leaning against the window frame, his knuckles white from the stress of him hanging onto the frame the way a drowning man held onto a rope thrown to him from a ship.  
"And you're afraid," Spock finished. He swallowed hard and admitted, "I dream of that, too. Of your death, and the death of my planet and of my mother."  
"I hate that glass," Jim murmured. "In my dream, all I can think is..."  
"If that glass were just gone," Spock said softly. "Then I could just get you out."  
"But," Jim said, looking at Spock, "I wake up and I think 'thank God, they got me out. I'm alive' but for your planet, your mother..." 

Spock put one hand on the window. His hand was open, surrounded by stars; open the same way it had been on the day Jim died, open in the sign of "live long and prosper."  
"I didn't cry," Spock admitted. Not even Uhura knew this.  
"What?"  
"When my planet became nothing, not even rubble was left after Nero was done. When my mother - as you so honestly put it - was murdered...I didn't cry. Not once. But when you died..." He couldn't continue.  
Jim looked down then back at Spock. "I...I remember. I remember being surprised. I was almost sure that I must have imagined it because I wanted...I didn't want to die alone."  
Spock thought he could only nod but he found that he was still speaking.  
"Uhura was the only person who knew for certain. The others could only guess," Spock said.  
Jim was at a visible loss for words.  
"What does that make me?" Spock asked. The desperation finally crept into his voice. He had felt sorrow, anger, shock, disbelief, but this was the first time he had felt desperate. "If I cry for a friend but not for my mother, for my planet?"  
"It makes you half-human," Jim said, "And it makes you half-Vulcan. You mourned for your planet the Vulcan way, Spock. And your mother was part of those memories so you mourned for her the Vulcan way too. And...uh...with me..." Jim suddenly became embarrassed. Spock stared at him and Jim muttered, "I don't know where I was going with that."  
"With you I acted like a human," Spock finished.  
Jim nodded; "Something like that."

Spock looked at his hand, still held against the glass. He pulled it away and his handprint was left. Live long and prosper to the universe.  
"I should clean that," Spock said.  
"There should be...Spock?"

Spock had dropped to his knees, his eyes closed. Jim didn't know what to do. Did Vulcans go into shock? Or was that just a Spock thing? And...oh God...was Spock crying?  
Jim Kirk stood there unsure what to do. He just stood there. Watching Spock. Thinking about the people they both had lost...then he noticed something falling down his own face. 

Spock stood as suddenly as he had dropped. He wiped his face and said, "Jim?"  
"Yeah, Spock?"  
"I would appreciate it if you did not tell anyone about this."  
"Sure, Spock, on one condition."  
"Really? What..." Spock began as he turned to face his friend but his words trailed off as he saw Jim's face - and the tears still shining on his cheeks. The captain of the Enterprise wiped away his tears with a small, wry smile and went to get one of the cloths they kept in the kitchen. They wiped the glass clean and both left to return to their respective quarters.

But the next morning, as the two of them met each other in the halls on their way to the bridge. Spock stopped Jim with a hand on his shoulder.  
"Thank you, Jim," he whispered.  
Jim Kirk smiled.

_**In memory of all those who died during the 2012-2013 school year. Live long and prosper wherever you are.**_


End file.
